


take the world and redefine it

by eberbae (dustyjournal)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Career Ending Injuries, M/M, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Sentinel/Guide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-29 18:32:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15079115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustyjournal/pseuds/eberbae
Summary: “What I am offering you is a chance to join the kingsguard,” King Jonathan declares. “I am sure you are knowledgeable of the duties of the kingsguard, as well as how knights are deemed worthy of the title.”“A quest,” is all Connor is able to say.





	take the world and redefine it

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [weird_situation](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weird_situation/pseuds/weird_situation) in the [PuckingRare2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PuckingRare2018) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> a sentinel/guide au of any sort. maybe player A wakes up with heightened senses and doesn’t know what’s happening but player B does. or players A (sentinel) and B are in a relationship but player C turns out to be A’s guide. anything really!  
> \--
> 
> This is, more than anything, a love letter to my home province. I had so much fun writing this! Thank you to weird_situation for the prompt, and to Ki, Pan, and LJ for their beta work/cheerleading. This couldn't have been finished without you <3
> 
> Please see end notes for explanation of the tags: career-ending injury, mild blood, and mild gore. Spoilers included in these notes.

_Prologue_

Beyond the walls of the kingdom, there is a beautiful forest that extends in every direction. A large river cuts through the kingdom itself, its icy water home to many fish. Connor has enjoyed playing in and venturing down the river since childhood; he can recall his mother racing down the hill to keep him from floating off, but never telling him to stay away.

As he grew older, stronger, and more daring, he would attempt to best the river, taking only a small raft and paddle his mother had made for him. He would begin paddling at dawn, only stopping when the sun appeared above the tallest pine trees, the signal that he needed to get home to take care of his chores. With each passing day he would get farther and farther up the river, until his hands were bloody and rough from calluses and his face too pink from the sun.

He loved every moment on that river, loved every tree he passed and every animal he saw. More than that, though, he dreamed of adventure, of coming of age to train for knighthood as his father and brother before him. Of going on daring adventures, full of sword fights and triumphs and near-losses.

There was no doubt in Connor’s mind of what he would be when he would finally celebrate his sixteenth birthday. He asked for a sword as his one gift and was overcome with joy when his father bestowed upon him his grandfather’s grandfather’s first sword. It was old and blunt and had become unbalanced throughout the years, but Connor had loved it with every fibre of his being.

Soon his days began before sunrise as he practiced everything he possibly could: footwork and agility, parrying and jabbing. His fascination with the art of it only grew. Then, as the sky faded from pink to blue, he would set out on the river again. Only once his muscles were screaming from exertion would he float back down the river. Sometimes, he would work on his footwork once he stepped off the raft. By his seventeenth birthday, when he was finally able to contend for the knightsguard, he had swept his competition off their feet.

Then he was training every day with others just as determined as he, and Connor’s skills developed even further, now that he had opponents. More often than not, he would leave them surrendering under the point of his sword, but they would all smile and laugh about it minutes later.

Still, as the years passed, Connor made time to return to the river, relishing in the peace that he could only find on that old raft.

\--

“It would be much easier if you were to yield, old friend!” Connor exclaims, a laugh chasing his words. It’s not often that he speaks during a duel, but it’s not often he duels without any onlookers, either.

“I’ll yield when I’m dead!” Dylan yells back, advancing on Connor forcefully. Too forcefully, because he exposes his flank, a spot Connor strikes easily once he’s blocked Dylan’s swipe. Dylan falters, and Connor slew-foots him so Dylan lands on his back with a dull _thud._

Dylan wheezes, the wind knocked out of him, but he drops his sword and raises his hands in surrender. “Fine,” he says, once he regains his breath. “I yield, you prick.”

Connor laughs, open and freely. He drops down to sit beside Dylan’s feet, breathing in the warm summer air. He had already been panting after a long day of pure combat training, but he would never turn down a good-natured fight with one of his oldest companions.

“I do not think I could move if my life depended on it,” Dylan groans, tossing his head to the side dramatically.

Connor hums, looks to the sinking sun. “I think we may be missing dinner,” he points out, grinning when Dylan makes a mild squawking noise.

“Ryan feeds my dinner to the horses when I’m late,” Dylan says hurriedly, rolling on his side to get up in a most undignified fashion. He helps Connor up, and together they walk to the armoury.

When they arrive there, though, they are surprised to see two of the kingsguard, the king’s most prestigious and trusted knights, standing there, seemingly waiting for someone. As it happens, that someone is Connor, as they turn to him when he approaches.

Dylan and Connor cross their right arms over their chests - their sign of greeting and loyalty to the kingdom - and Sir Jamie and Sir Shea do the same.

Connor is going to offer a verbal greeting, but Shea speaks first. “Sir Connor, the king wishes to speak with you.”

Connor is momentarily stunned by it, but has the ability to reply, “I am honoured, though I believe he would prefer if I changed first.”

Shea and Jamie both smile, standing aside to allow Connor to change out of the clothing he has been wearing all day.

“What do you think he wants?” Dylan whispers.

Connor shrugs, trying not to think about it too much. He can’t think of any reason he would be in any sort of trouble, but he hasn’t done anything exceptional recently, either. It’s a mystery, which does little to settle the knot forming low in his stomach.

He follows Shea and Jamie through the corridors, up to the winding staircases of the west towers. It’s known that the king’s private chambers and meeting rooms are in this tower, but only the kingsguard know of the true locations of every room. None of them speak as they walk along, though it’s a comfortable silence. That is, until Shea and Jamie stop abruptly in front of a door that looks like every other of the numerous doors in the hallway, save for two other kingsguard knights standing in front of it.

Jamie turns and nods. “He’s waiting inside,” he says, no hint of any emotion in his voice. Connor opens the door and walks inside, barely suppressing a jump as it slams closed behind him.

It’s well-lit in the room, the last rays of sunlight shining through a large window, and the walls are lined with torches. King Jonathan is waiting at a large table, sitting patiently and looking over papers. There is no sign of tension in his shoulders, which Connor takes as a good sign.

Connor greets the king with the physical salute and says, “My king.”

King Jonathan stands and grabs Connor’s forearm, Connor returning the greeting. He offers Connor a small smile, nodding once. He’s not known for extravagance, so Connor takes what he has learned to be a warm greeting.

“Sir Connor, thank you for meeting with me this evening,” King Jonathan says kindly. Then, gesturing to the seat across from him, says, “Please, take a seat.”

Connor does so, and becomes acutely aware of the knot in his stomach growing to reach his chest.

King Jonathan smirks, looking at Connor pointedly. “You have the same expression I used to have when my father would call me in for lectures about playing fairly with the other children. I promise there is nothing to be worried about, Sir Connor. You are excelling in your training, and your work with Sir Brent, training the most recent group of recruits, is known throughout the kingdom as wildly successful.”

Connor barely hides a sigh of relief. “I am honoured, your majesty. Burnzie - I mean, Sir Brent, makes my duties considerably easier, and the recruits are extremely well-disciplined.”

King Jonathan nods, obviously pleased. “I am glad to hear it. That is not the reason I called you here, though. I have an offer for you. If I were in your shoes, I would accept it, though it is entirely up to you.” He pauses momentarily to pick up a piece of parchment that he then rolls out, revealing a map of the kingdom and the lands beyond.

“What I am offering you is a chance to join the kingsguard,” King Jonathan declares. “I am sure you are knowledgeable of the duties of the kingsguard, as well as how knights are deemed worthy of the title.”

“A quest,” is all Connor is able to say, shocked. Him? A member of the kingsguard? This is...he is truly speechless.

“Correct,” King Jonathan replies, bringing Connor back to reality. “I must warn you, though, the quest chosen by the Council is very dangerous, more dangerous than most.” Pointing to the map, King Jonathan traces his finger from the heart of the city to the trees to the west, leading to the mountains. “We would like to expand our territory to the west. To our knowledge, there are no kingdoms, no civilizations in this area. It should be rife with wildlife, valuable resources. However, there are dangers in this area, reports of bandits, people getting lost and returning to their families different than before. The last two knights to venture on a quest in this area… regrettably failed. I encourage you to speak with them before you accept.”

Connor’s mind is racing. He’s heard tales, all as fictional as magic itself, of the horrors that await in the west woods, but hearing King Jonathan’s warnings makes him consider that maybe there is something to be wary about.

“What would I need to do?” Connor asks, pleased his voice doesn’t shake.

“Find a place to claim a new settlement,” King Jonathan says. He points to the map again, a tiny fort drawn just inside the forest’s edge. “This is our farthest settlement. As you can see, the Calgary kingdom has a settlement equally as deep into the woods, but no farther west. I would like something at least halfway between our settlement and the mountains, though anywhere deemed prosperous is acceptable. If you can set up this settlement and keep the villagers sent here safe for one year, you will earn a place in the kingsguard.”

Connor wants to accept this very instant, but he must take King Jonathan’s advice and wait. He does have one question to ask before he joins Dylan for what’s left of dinner, to tell him the news.

“This is the greatest honour I could imagine, Your Highness,” Connor says. “Will this quest be done with another knight, or be done alone?” He knows that it is customary for two knights to go on a quest together, but he does not want to assume.

“You will have a knight chosen to go with you. I have made already my choice of this knight, and will inform you if they have accepted once you have given me your answer. We will meet again two nights from now.”

Connor thanks the king again, and turns to leave before another question gives him pause.

“Your Highness, these other knights who failed this quest - where can I find them? Connor asks.

King Jonathan looks down, and when he looks back up, there is an indiscernible look upon his face. Stoic, maybe.

“The hospital wing,” King Jonathan replies, then hands Connor a piece of paper with two names on it.

Connor leaves with less of a spring in his step than he would have had he not asked that question.

\--

It takes no persuasion at all for Dylan to accompany Connor to the hospital wing the following afternoon. They both have the afternoon off but Dylan has guard duty for the evening and Connor has patrol, so they walk quickly. Connor’s thankful for it, truthfully, as the brisk pace hides his nerves.

Well, not enough for Dylan not to notice.

“I can practically hear your thoughts,” Dylan says quietly. For all the joy he gets out of poking fun at Connor, he knows when to be subdued, thoughtful. “You don’t even recognize these knights’ names. For all we know, they could have simply made a mistake. Or not been nearly as good at combat as you, which is a great deal of knights.”

Connor doesn’t reply, but he gives Dylan a grateful smile.

When they arrive at the hospital wing, the physician closest to the door quickly walks over, saluting once in front of them.

“How may I be of assistance?” He asks.

Connor fumbles with the paper, though he has committed the names to memory, and reads the names aloud. “Sir Jordan and Sir Taylor. I- we wish to have an audience with them,” he says politely.

The physician quirks an eyebrow, but says, “Very well. I will lead you to their room, though I warn you that they may not be very conversational.”

Connor and Dylan share a look before they follow the physician, but follow nonetheless. The physician knocks, then opens the door for Connor and Dylan to go inside.

The room appears less as a hospital wing and more as a large bedroom, sizeable enough for two people to live comfortably.

“Who’s there?” A voice to the right calls out, causing Connor and Dylan to jump. There’s two men sitting at a table, a dark-haired one with a large piece of parchment in front of him and a blond-haired one with a small book in his hands. It appears the dark-haired one is who called out, as he isn’t looking at them. In fact, his eyes are closed, as if he’s…

“He’s blind,” Dylan whispers, almost too quietly for Connor to hear. Connor steps forward and the blond stands. He’s about Connor’s height and looks like he was once very strong, but now his too-baggy shirt hangs off him, his stance suggesting nervousness, timidness.

“My name is Connor, and this is Dylan,” Connor offers, forgoing the titles for the time being. “King Jonathan sent me to talk with the two of you about the quest you were sent on.”

The blond offers his hand to Connor. “I’m Taylor. This is Jordan. Why exactly did the king send you to question us about this?”

Connor swallows. He could lie, but that wouldn’t be fair to these once-knights. So he opts for the truth.

“I have been offered a quest. One very similar to the one you went on.”

Jordan slams his fist on the table, making Connor jump. Dylan utters an expletive but is otherwise silent.

“This is selfish and reckless of the kingdom,” Jordan says. He’s still turned away from them. “You will fail, and lose everything you care for.”

Connor looks to Taylor, but is surprised to see that Taylor has a very confused expression on his face.

“Who are you, and why are you here?” Taylor says, hostile.

Before Connor can respond, Jordan reaches out and grabs at Taylor’s hand, only searching in the air momentarily before finding it and taking hold. “Taylor, sit down. This is Connor and Dylan, they’re friends.”

Taylor sits again, but he still has an expression of distrust on his face, his shoulders closed in.

“What happened to you two?” Dylan asks, and not for the first time Connor is thankful for his bluntness.

Jordan sighs, finally turning. When he does, Connor can see that his eyes aren’t just closed - they’re sewn shut with a million scars. It’s gruesome and Connor has to suppress a gasp.

“The forest…” Jordan starts, sighs, and continues. “It is not some simple forest. There are bandits and beasts, but there is...more. Taylor and I were ambitious, reckless. We ignored every sign that we should turn back, request more knights or convince the king that it is an unconquerable land. We-”

“Get away from him!” Taylor exclaims, catapulting up from his chair and launching himself at Connor. Dylan wrestles Taylor off of Connor, pinning him to the ground.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” Dylan exclaims. “Taylor, we are not going to hurt you or Jordan, okay?”

“His memory is gone,” Jordan says quietly. “Mine too, but only from how this happened to us. He cannot remember anything from his past except for me, and cannot make new memories.”

It’s Connor’s turn to swear. But then in a moment of bravery, asks, “How did you survive?”

Jordan turns away from them again. “I do not know for certain. Most of it returns to me in my dreams. We were by… a waterfall, I believe. Taylor was screaming nonsense, and I felt as if someone had branded my eyes with a sword, but we started running and didn’t stop. Someone in the village by the forest heard us, found us. That is all I remember.”

“Everything you dream for will be taken from you,” Taylor whispers, in a voice that doesn’t sound anything like his own. The other three in the room stare at him silently. “That’s what I remember. From the forest.”

Connor’s mind is racing. Who would do such a thing to them? He feels sick to his stomach, not knowing what to say.

“Don’t take the quest, Connor,” Jordan says, facing towards him again. “Stay safe. And do not come back here again.”

\--

Connor doesn’t sleep well that night. He wakes up in sweats, dreams of fire and falling and failure running through his mind as he bolts upwards. The sun through his window wakes him early, and after a short while, he deems himself unable to fall asleep again.

There is only one way he can see himself making his decision, which he must give this evening.

It’s a long walk to the river, but it is one of his blessed rest days. He has no need to rush. The crisp morning air and bright sunlight promises for a beautiful day, and with every step, he feels more confident that he will return to the castle with a decision.

The raft and paddle are waiting for him the same way they have for years. Though weathered, they are sturdy, and Connor pushes the raft into the water, climbing on top when it is a few feet from the shore.

From there, he paddles. He feels every muscle stretch and strain in their familiar way, the tension from his swordfighting and training channeled into forcing the raft upstream.

The epiphany hits him when a bird swoops low and lands on his raft, startling him. It’s a crow, and it squawks at him once, tilts its head, squawks again, then flies off. It’s only then that Connor realizes he’s floating backwards, the natural flow of the river pushing him back the way he came.

He’s always paddled against the current. He could paddle downstream, but it’s not as much of a challenge. The challenge is what matters, the potential to fail giving him the strength, the motivation, to succeed.

This quest will be the biggest challenge he’s faced. But not once in his life has he not at least tried.

He has to _try._

\--

“I am pleased,” King Jonathan says. They’re in the same room as the last meeting, but it appears the number of papers on the table has at least doubled. “You will leave at first light in three days’ time. You may take these three days to train as you wish. I will have the necessary supplies prepared for you. If you have a preference for which horse you wish to take, please go to the stables to make it known.”

Connor nods, though he isn’t sure what to say. Three days. Better than nothing, though he will need to visit his family before he leaves.

“As for your companion,” King Jonathan continues, “Sir Ryan has accepted the offer.”

Connor attempts not to smile. “My King, I am not sure I know to which Ryan you refer.”

King Jonathan looks confused for a moment, then seems to remember the great deal of Ryans in the knightsguard. “Of course. Sir Ryan Nugent-Hopkins. He has years of experience both with sword-fighting and survival. He comes from the village at the forest’s edge; I am hoping that affords the two of you some advantage.”

“I am certain Sir Ryan and I will not disappoint you,” Connor declares.

King Jonathan stands, shakes Connor’s hand. “Best of luck to you both.”

With that vote of confidence, Connor hastens out of the room to tell Dylan everything.

\--

There’s not much by way of training for Connor to do. He has his favourite weapons, sure, and he runs through his practices with them in a day, but he’s been training for a chance like this his entire life.

Dylan had very kindly pointed out that Sir Ryan is one of the few knights who had ever beaten Connor in combat. Though he doesn’t talk much, Ryan is never unfriendly to anyone, and is always willing to train extra hours with whoever had asked. Connor admires that, and seeks out Ryan on his first of three preparation days.

It appears that Ryan had been looking for Connor as well, because they find each other while heading to the other’s bedchambers.

“Oh,” Connor says, taking a half-step back. Ryan doesn’t seem startled in the slightest, instead offering Connor a smile and a salute. Connor salutes back, then becomes acutely aware that he doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands.

“I was hoping to find you,” Ryan says, smiling politely. “I would like to review our journey, our strategy, if you have the time.”

“Of course,” Connor replies, then follows Ryan’s lead through the corridors. “Actually,” Connor says, feeling awkward making Ryan pause, “Shall we take our dinner first? I do not want to be up late on an empty stomach.”

Ryan laughs, just a short thing, but it makes Connor inexplicably happy. “You will be the brains of this quest, I see it already.”

Connor blushes, but it is easily masked by the torch-lit hallway.

There is hot stew and baskets of bread waiting for them in the dining hall. Dylan, who is sitting with his brother and a large group of people, waves them over, but Connor shakes his head apologetically, hoping his gesture to Ryan send the message that the two of them will be talking strategy. Dylan nods and gives two big thumbs up, which puts a smile on Connor’s face.

He and Ryan get a table in a corner. Connor is satisfied with their level of privacy, so he begins his long list of important topics.

“I think we should first discuss how much we each know about the area to the west. We can easily take the as-the-crow-flies path as it is the only one I have ever travelled, but I have only ever gone as far as the canola fields; I’ve been nowhere near the village by the forest.”

Instead of replying right away, Ryan takes some bread and dunks it in his stew, then looks at Connor as he eats it like he’s making some kind of point. There’s a gleam in his eyes, so maybe he is.

“This stew is delicious, don’t you agree?” Ryan asks.

It’s only then that Connor realizes he hasn’t actually tried any of his food yet. His stomach rumbles, and he blushes for some reason.

“Alright, no talking of the quest until after dinner,” Connor says in a half-pouting tone, and he nearly misses the bowl with his spoon when Ryan laughs softly.

“I know the two of us will get caught up talking about it and forget to do anything else, is all,” Ryan replies. “I enjoy dinnertime conversation, though. And I would like to get to know you more, if that is alright.”

Ryan was right, the stew is delicious. Between bites, Connor answers, “I truly do not have much to tell. I was born and raised within the city limits, my best friend is Dylan Strome, and being a knight has always been my dream.” He shrugs, unsure what else to add.

“Were you not also granted special status to train with weapons beyond a sword? A year earlier than usual?” Ryan asks. He’s got a half-smile on his face that Connor is beginning to place as an amused, knowing smirk. It’s strange, though; Ryan is a few years older than Connor and Connor’s bonus year of training was never made fully public. Then again, it may have easily come up over dinner between knights.

“Yes, that is correct,” Connor confirms. “Though I will choose a sword over anything else, any day.”

Ryan helps himself to more stew, then says, “Humble, smart, one of the best around with a sword. I should really have attempted to know you better earlier than this.”

Connor is nearly stunned silent, but a simple thought saves him from embarrassment. “So, uh, yes, then I would like to know more about you. Fate has seemingly kept us from running in the same circle until now.”

“Very true,” Ryan agrees. “Less to tell about me, I am afraid. I was born west of here, moved to the kingdom when I was sixteen to join the knightsguard. Every day here has been a blessing and a challenge, and now I can go on a mighty quest and know my sacrifices have been worth it.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Connor says, the excitement building up inside him now that he is thinking about the quest more, how Ryan seems like an excellent choice for a partner.

Their bellies stuffed, they make their way to the library. As expected, few are in there, one knight snoozing over a very large book. Connor moves the candle the knight had been using for light farther away from the knight’s hair- hopefully preventing any tragedy from occuring. Ryan smiles and beckons Connor to one of the doorless reading rooms, brightened by many candles.

“I will grab a map, you find books on whatever you think we will need,” Ryan directs. “Oh, and if you see anything about wild berry bushes, please grab it. I would like to brush up on the distinctions between poisonous and non-poisonous berries.”

With that instruction, Connor begins searching. This is going to be a long night.

\--

The next day, Connor’s mother and father make the long journey into the city. Cam is still on a kingdom-wide mission, and Connor regrets not being able to see him before leaving. Still, it is a blessing to see his parents.

His mother begins tearing up the moment he helps her off her horse, squeezing him within an inch of his life, then kissing his forehead a few times. His father, still unable to move smoothly due to years of injuries due to the knightsguard, gives Connor a quick, too-tight hug.

“My son, how proud we are of you,” his mother says.

His father parrots the sentiment. “This will not be an easy journey. You are brave and smart, but that forest will test you before you ever enter it.”

Connor isn’t sure what to say to that, but he does say, “I never would have gotten to this point without your support. Thank you for seeing me today.”

He leads them to the stables and then to the dining hall, where only a handful of people are enjoying a late breakfast. He’s surprised to see Ryan there, though this is likely a good scenario. Connor and Ryan had been discussing strategy and even duelling each other the day prior, but had made no plans to see each other today, which was a mistake.

“Sir Connor,” Ryan says, standing and saluting, then doing the same for Connor’s parents. “Lord and Lady McDavid, it is an honour.”

“Mother, Father, this is Sir Ryan, the knight with whom I will be going on this quest,” Connor introduces.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Ryan,” Connor’s mother says. “If you will excuse us, my husband and I would like to help ourselves to some breakfast before the kitchen closes.”

“Of course,” Ryan says. Once Connor’s parents leave, Ryan turns to Connor, smiling. “You look just like your mother.”

Connor’s heard that many times before, but from Ryan is feels like more. Like he sees right through Connor, knows everything about him. It’s a foolish, self-conscious thought, but it’s there all the same.

“I have been told that before,” he admits. “My brother looks just like my father.”

Ryan nods. “Sir Cameron, yes? He’s escorting Lady Hayley on her annual trips to the villages, is he not?”

“He is,” Connor confirms. That wasn’t very common knowledge; again, Connor wonders if Ryan simply knows everything.

“Well, I am sure he is very proud of you as well,” Ryan says, then sits back down again. “Enjoy your visit with your parents. I will meet you in the same chambers of the library as we were in yesterday, after dinner.”

\--

“We still have not decided how far due west we should go,” Connor points out. They’ve studied the maps and double-checked their lists, even read the handbooks of advice from members of the kingsguard about taking a quest. Though the moon is high and the world around them quiet, Connor is wide awake with excitement and anticipation.

“About half a day’s ride, maybe?” Ryan suggests. They have both consulted the map, but it isn’t of much help in terms of paths, resources, or dangers. “After that, we go north?”

“That should be acceptable,” Connor agrees. Then, more hesitantly, “do we happen to know where Sir Jordan and Sir Taylor were… turned around?”

Connor and Ryan had discussed the other knights the day before. Ryan had an equally bizarre visit to the hospital wing and could offer no additional insight as to what could have caused the knights’ tragic fate.

And, as expected, Ryan shakes his head. “I’ve looked for signs of waterfalls, but I do not see anything. If we see or hear anything of the sort, though, I suggest we get as far away from it as possible.” There’s a small smile in the corner of his mouth directed at Connor, and Connor appreciates Ryan’s attempt to lighten the mood.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Connor says.

With their trip mostly planned, Ryan and Connor decide to end their night there. They walk together towards their housing chambers, but Ryan stops them up when they reach the small bridge over a well.

“The moon looks so beautiful tonight,” Ryan says, looking to the deep black sky.

Connor looks to Ryan, to the sky, then to the moon’s reflection in the well water. It’s nearly as bright as the moon itself, and nearly as clear as well. “Do you know of any omens associated with a full moon?” He asks, still looking down.

Ryan chuckles. “There is a superstition the full moon is a good time to start a new job and to finish old business. And it may bring wealth to anyone who gazes upon it.”

“I think I would rather a wealth of knowledge the most, at this moment,” Connor muses, now staring at the moon, same as Ryan.

“Is that what you’d choose in any situation?” Ryan asks, looking to Connor, who looks back. “Knowledge over money?”

Connor shrugs. “I’ve been fortunate enough to never have to concern myself with having enough money, so it seems natural to say yes. And even then, everything I have learned in my life has gotten me to this point. What use is wealth if you do not know what to do with it?”

“Indeed,” Ryan says, as brightly as he says anything. Then, after a moment, “What is one thing you wish to know about me, then?”

Connor looks to Ryan, sees the playfulness in his eyes, the way he is leaning casually against the railing. Connor isn’t sure where this air of ease has come from, but it’s drawing him in, making him lean just that little bit closer to Ryan.

“What is the one thing you wish they served in the kitchens every day?” Connor asks.

Ryan takes Connor by surprise by laughing, louder and clearer than ever before. He’s still breathing a little laboured when he says, “Of all the questions you could ask me, Sir Connor, and you wonder what my favourite food is?”

Connor’s cheeks heat and his insides twist in embarrassment. He should have - yes, he should have thought more on his question, not gone for the first thing that came to his mind. He starts to apologize, but Ryan waves a hand, sets it on Connor’s shoulder. It’s not unwelcome.

“I only joke, Connor,” Ryan says kindly. “The lemon squares, I think. I have never had one that I didn’t savour as long as I could. And you?”  

Connor should have been prepared for this, and now his mind is drawing a blank. What _does_ he prefer to eat? What did he even eat this evening; he could just say that.

After too long of pained contemplation, Connor says, “This was a long time ago, but I remember they made chocolate wafers one night. It was a treat, and I would love to have them again. Though, I do not think I could go without the sourdough bread every day.”

They trade questions like that, and only stop when they have walked to the door into Connor’s chambers.

“Well, goodnight,” Connor says, offering a disjointed smile. Why his chest is tight, he doesn’t know. Or doesn’t want to admit it.

“Goodnight, Connor,” Ryan says, and leaves down the corridor.

Connor falls asleep that night thinking about the way Ryan says his name.

\--

On the third day, after Connor has said goodbye to his parents, Connor and Ryan train together. It’s in the middle of their second swordfight - Connor had narrowly won the first - that Connor wishes he had trained with Ryan for years. He has a certain way of attacking that is quick but measured, as if he knows his next five steps and nothing his opponent does will stop him from executing them.

Ryan wins the second fight almost purely out of endurance, stepping around Connor until Connor is dizzy and mis-steps, leaving himself as open as a turtle on its back.

“Again?” Ryan asks, only a moment after pointing his sword directly at Connor’s chest.

Connor takes a large step back, lifts his sword and shield. “Again.”

\--

That night, Dylan is in Connor’s bedchambers, going through Connor’s personal satchel with which he has packed a few essentials, but not much else. Connor is laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, simply listening to Dylan ramble.

“...and let’s not forget about sunstroke,” Dylan continues, grabbing a small bottle of cream from his own satchel and transferring it to Connor’s. “And you could catch a cold if you are caught in the rain or, heaven forbid, stay in an unclean bed in an inn that you go to for ‘convenience’.” To that, he adds a small wrapped package to Connor’s satchel.

“And what exactly will you do when you run out of room in my satchel?” Connor teases. He is truly thankful for Dylan’s companionship and concern; if he had his way, Dylan would be joining this quest as well. He offers a perfect balance to Connor, always has. Still, if he must bring Dylan along in the variety of products in his bag, he will take that as it is.

Dylan, who has pointedly ignored Connor, closes the flap on the satchel and rounds the bed to sit at the foot of it, pushing Connor’s legs aside.

“You will thank me one day,” Dylan proclaims.

“I thank you every day,” Connor counters, shoving at Dylan lightly with his foot.

Dylan grins. “That is true. You are welcome.”

A kind of sadness settles between them, a discomfort only comparable to the feeling Connor had when he had said his goodbye to his mother when he had first left to properly train with the knightsguard, all those years ago. A sadness borne of opportunity, of ambition: something obligatory to Connor’s soul but regrettable at the same time.

“Dylan, if something is to happen to me-”

“Damn you, Connor, nothing-”

“Listen,” Connor says, forcefully enough to actually shut Dylan’s mouth. “I am not going on this quest expecting to fail, but I must plan for it.” When Dylan’s face pinches but he doesn’t respond, Connor continues, “You should mourn me, but do not waste your own life trying to get me back - in any capacity.” They both know Connor means both if he never returns, or if he returns the way Sir Taylor and Sir Jordan had.

“I understand, Connor,” Dylan says. “It may be the most difficult thing I ever do, but I promise you that I will honour your wish.”

He stands up, and Connor does too. They embrace for a long while, and Connor feels the comfort of their years of friendship in the tight squeeze Dylan offers.

“Just make it easy on me and come back, alright?” Dylan says when they pull apart.

Connor nods once, solidly. “I will try.”

\--

Despite the nervousness that had been building up since the days he had been offered the quest, Connor sleeps relatively well that evening. In the morning, he meets Ryan by the stables, every possible supply packed, including a flag to plant in the ground of the to-be-claimed land.

Many of the knightsguard and kingsguard are there for their send-off. King Jonathan is there as well, but Connor only pays attention to Ryan and Dylan.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Dylan whispers into Connor’s hair as they embrace tightly.

“I will do my best,” Connor replies, smiling for the first time that morning.

When he pulls away, he shakes a few hands and then mounts his horse. Ryan is already on his horse, patiently waiting for Connor.

“Let’s go,” Connor says, hiking up the reins and kicking his horse once in the side.

\--

It isn’t until hours into the ride, when they have passed their first of many small villages, that they start up a conversation.

“So tell me, Sir Connor,” Ryan says, will all sorts of false grandeur in his voice. “A mighty knight like yourself must do some things for your own enjoyment. Care to share?”

Connor laughs. “You know, Dylan jokes that I have only ever known the knightsguard. Training, fighting, serving my kingdom - it’s all I’ve ever truly wanted.”

“That is not what I asked, is it though?” Ryan challenges, quirking an eyebrow.

“No, I guess it’s not,” Connor says, thoughtful. “I do enjoy taking a raft that my mother had made for me when I was a boy and paddling it up the river. It is so serene and beautiful, and I can really think out there, you know?”

“I do,” Ryan agrees. “Though I must admit, I have never been one for water. I don’t swim particularly well, and the rapids frighten me just a bit.”

“There is nothing to be afraid of, I assure you. I would be happy to show you when we return,” Connor says, genuine.

“I would like that,” Ryan says.

It’s quiet for a few moments, though Connor wants to keep this conversation going. He enjoys talking to Ryan. “What about you, then? What do you do when you’re seeking out fun?”

“Me?” Ryan says, as if surprised Connor would ask. “I spend nearly all my free time with the horses. My family has trained horses for generations; I was the black sheep, you could say, for wanting more than just a life of working with them.”

“Well, the knightsguard is lucky to have you,” Connor says. He coughs, afraid he may be showing his cards. “And it is fortunate you can still find time to work with the horses even at the kingdom.”

“Indeed,” Ryan says, looking at the horizon.

“Oh! And I expect we will be meeting your family when we stop at the forest village, won’t we?” Connor offers, quite excited to be able to potentially meet Ryan’s parents, siblings if he has any.

Ryan looks down, his horse slowing up just enough that Connor has to slow his as well.

“No- um, no. My family is… they are not there, not anymore.” Ryan trails off. There’s a sense of finality to it, so Connor lets the conversation drop.

They don’t talk much until they have to stop for the night, and even then, it’s only smalltalk.

\--

It takes the expected two days of travelling to reach the village at the forest line. There are just as many houses leading to the centre of the village as there would be in any other area, but all of these houses are decorated with strangely-coloured front doors, decorations that make music as the wind blows through them, and even have strange spirals of dirt in the grass surrounding every wall. Connor tries not to stare, as it is likely a tradition that would be rude to stare at or mock.

Ryan, however, can’t seem to look away. He has a terribly puzzled expression on his face, his eyebrows pushed so closely together and his mouth screwed up so tight that it looks like it might be physically painful.

“Ryan? Are you alright?” Connor asks, riding up beside Ryan so as to get in his line of sight.

Ryan looks at Connor, seems to remember himself, and shakes the pinched expression from his face. “Yes, of course. It's nothing." He gives Connor a smile but it’s forced, though Connor says nothing of it.

“Perhaps we should stay at an inn tonight, get some decent rest and talk to some of the folks here,” Connor suggests.

“That is… yes, that’s a good plan,” Ryan says.

He must just be tired, Connor reasons. It hasn’t been a terribly long journey, but it’s been tiring enough for anyone to need rest.

They are nearly at the treeline now, though it is scarce and the buildings indicating the village centre are within close sight. But something in Connor’s chest tightens. He has the intense need to turn back suddenly flood his mind, so much so that he stops the horse, nearly turns around.

“Connor,” Ryan says gently, but firmly. “We must fulfill our quest. We can do this.”

Of course, Connor thinks. The unease is still in his mind, but he can push it aside, make finding shelter the priority as they enter the treeline.

The buildings of the centre are almost in a perfect circle, though they are all twisted in some random way so no two of the strangely-coloured doors are facing each other straight-on. In the middle of the almost-circle of buildings is another spiral, this one large enough to cover almost the entire half-stone, half-dirt floor. The few people walking around outside aren’t touching the spiral at all, as if it is some sort of game. It is truly a sight that Connor finds both amusing and intriguing, but Ryan’s stoic, his mouth in a straight line.

“There,” Connor points, noticing the sign of the building with a rust-coloured door. “An inn. Let’s tie up the horses around the back.”

The inn is dimly lit, as if no visitors are ever expected. Still, it has a sort of cozy quality that Connor finds comforting. There are a few tables and a long bar off to their right, where a woman is wiping a glass dry.

Before Connor or Ryan can say a word, the woman says, “If you wish to stay the night, it’ll be one gold piece for the two of you.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Connor says, and brings out two gold pieces instead.

The woman eyes him but takes the pieces anyway, inspects them before putting them in her apron. She places the glass she had been cleaning down and reaches below the bar, brandishing a key and handing it to Connor. Connor goes to grab it but she has a firm grip on it. She isn’t looking at Connor, she’s looking at Ryan.

“Do I know you?” She asks, though it’s not friendly or inquisitive. More like...accusatory.

“We are knights from the Kingdom of Edmonton,” Ryan says smoothly, as if this woman’s demeanour doesn’t phase him at all. “I don’t believe we have met before, though I appreciate your hospitality.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, finally letting go of the key and going to place the glass where it belongs. “Enjoy your stay. We’ll feed your horses and if you want some food, there’s bread in your room.”

Connor and Ryan thank her and go to their room. It’s quick work to get settled, and Connor is thankful that there is a pail of clean water and cloths so he can wash off. They had found an icy stream this morning but it had not been nearly enough to feel cleansed.

“Why did you not mention to her that you are from this village?” Connor asks in a moment of bravery, when they are both laying in their own beds.

Ryan doesn’t answer for a few moments. Connor turns to make sure he is still awake; he is, simply staring at the ceiling.

“I did not wish to be recognized, is all,” Ryan says finally. It’s a good enough reason as any, and Connor falls asleep unbothered, thankful for a warm and comfortable bed for the night before the real adventure begins.

\--

Connor has some of the strangest dreams of his life, that night. The spiral is in nearly all of them, and though he knows he’s dreaming, they seem so _real_.

In one, he’s falling from a waterfall, but there’s no water below - just more and more waterfall. He tries to reach out through the water, for something to hold onto, and then the scene changes and he’s hanging from a tree, a half-boar, half-dog trying to jump and bite his feet. When he kicks at the beast to try to force it away, the scene shifts again and his foot is being attacked, wrapped up by vines. His hands are wrapped around a vine too, and they’ve cuffed his hands together, his body being pulled apart from either end. It almost starts to hurt, and he’s scared-

“Connor! Connor!” Ryan shakes him awake, and Connor startles, nearly head-butting Ryan. When he settles back down, though, Ryan visibly relaxes.

“Did I wake you?” Connor asks, cheeks heating up.

Ryan pats Connor’s shoulder, but otherwise doesn’t move. “Please don’t worry about that. I wanted to be sure you were alright.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Connor says, shaking his head. The dream is still vivid in his mind, but it begins fading like a distant memory the more he focuses on it. “Thank you, Ryan. It was just a bad dream.”

Ryan doesn’t say anything, though it looks as if he wants to. He climbs back into his own bed, pulling up the covers, turning so he’s just barely facing Connor’s direction.

“Get some rest,” Ryan says, and closes his eyes.

Connor falls asleep almost instantly and doesn’t dream again.

\--

The next morning, Connor takes the task of getting breakfast and more clean water, while Ryan prepares the horses.

The same innkeeper is there at the bar, seemingly waiting for him, because she has the food and water he had been hoping to ask for.

“Figured you’d like a little something before you go,” she says, not unkindly. Then, when Connor tries to give her another gold coin, “that’s very kind of you, sir, but it really is no issue. I’ve got an idea where you two are headed, and you may need whatever you’ve got.”

It’s a strange thing to say, but it seems to be the invitation for questions, so Connor asks, “Can you tell me anything about the forest? Why the spirals, the buildings being built the way they are?”

The woman glances towards the door, as if they were being overheard. Her voice drops when she says, “Couldn’t tell ya about the forest, if I’m honest. Weird place. For years, things were happening to people here that we just couldn’t explain. We started doing little things - the chimes, the spirals - and less of that happened. We don’t question it, we’re just thankful to have our lives.”

As confusing as the response was, it’s likely the clearest explanation Connor is ever going to get. He takes the supplies, and with a smile, says, “You are too kind. We will be sure to stop by again when we venture back.”

Before he is able to stand up to leave, a man turns the corner to enter the room.

“Give him a coin,” the man says gruffly. He looks about the same age as the woman, and doesn’t introduce himself to Connor.

“Oh, I won’t be-”

“He means this,” the woman interrupts, placing a metal coin the size of Connor’s palm on the table. When Connor picks it up, it’s surprisingly light, cool to the touch, and has the spiral on both faces. “Take it. It may help,” she insists.

Connor doesn’t think to question the gesture, simply stowing the coin in his satchel. “Thank you.”

The woman gives him a once-over, and her eyes look sad when she says, “Good luck.”

\--

“Did you sleep well?” Connor asks when they have mounted their horses, making their way around the back of the inn. The village centre has become busier, music filling the air and chatter flowing from all directions.

“Fine,” Ryan says. It’s not short but it’s not conversational either. Connor figures Ryan may simply not be much of a morning person.

The morning sun is streaming through the leaves, brightening the flat forest floor. Connor breathes in deeply the fresh smell of dew, then remembers to stop up to tie a marker to a tree branch. Ryan’s looking back at him when he catches up, smiling a bit.

It isn’t long before Connor realizes that with every step they take it seems to get colder, the wind blowing harder through the trees. Connor shivers, but doesn’t say anything. It’s not uncommon for their land to drop to freezing at any time of year. Still, it already feels too different from a few moments ago.

“I am glad we brought larger cloaks,” Connor says. “We may need them soon.”

“Indeed,” Ryan says.

“Is everything alright?” Connor asks. He’s worried now; Ryan has been acting particularly standoffish since they neared the village, and now he seems even more guarded.

“I’m fine, Connor. I do not want to run into any trouble, is all.”

Connor stays quiet and alert, remembering his training. He grabs the hilt of his sword to ensure it is there.

Over the next hour, the winds pick up and a chill sets in that Connor can no longer ignore. He suggests they stop for a moment to put on their cloaks and Ryan agrees, but when they do so, Connor notices something.

“Do you have any water left?” He asks. His canteen is nearly empty, though he doesn’t remember drinking much since they had left. He checks for anywhere the water could have leaked out, but no.

Ryan checks his own and frowns. “No, and it was full when we left.”

Connor dismounts his horse to check their third reserve. It is empty as well, which is nothing short of strange.

“We need water,” Ryan says.

“We passed a stream not long ago,” Connor says. “I can at least grab enough to fill our canteens.”

“I will come back with you,” Ryan offers, already dismounting his horse.

Connor shakes his head and hands his horse’s reins to Ryan. “I will be quick, I promise. It will be faster if you just stay here with the horses.”

Ryan attempts to protest, but Connor has already begun jogging back the way they came. The stream is a little farther away than Connor had thought, but the water is cold and fresh. It is by a small stream now, shivering against another frigid gust of air, that Connor finds himself reminiscing about his adventures as a boy. Connor can almost feel himself back on his raft, paddling like his life depended on it. He takes a short moment to appreciate it, then fills up their canteens and trudges down the path from which he came.

He only passes the first turn, however, before the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his hand is on the hilt of his sword. He takes a few steps back to duck behind a large pine tree, listening closely.

There’s the telltale rustling of people walking nearby, and Connor’s blood runs cold. Only thieves and wild folk would be here.

“Ya sure they’d be this way?” A gruff voice, one with an unrecognizable accent, says from a distance. Many other rustling noises suggest he’s far from being with just one companion.

“If I was runnin’ for my life, I’d go to water,” another man answers. This one sounds angry, and Connor’s heart pumps double-time with the thought that Ryan’s life may be in danger. Their steps are getting closer and Connor must decide whether to engage or hide. He opts for hiding, dropping low into the tall grass where he cannot possibly be seen.

A woman, this time, offers, “I don’t see why we need to kill him. We already got his gold and injured him good enough. He’ll die on his own soon.”

“He has much more to offer than just some gold,” the first man replies. There are some affirmative grunts, and Connor must do everything in his power to stay still.

The group stops just metres away from Connor, but from where he’s covered he can only see the boots of one traveller. His blood is pumping in his ears so loudly that he can barely hear what anyone says next. He’s grateful he can keep his breath quiet, and soon the group is moving away from him and back towards the stream. He counts eight pairs of boots and is thankful he didn’t attempt to fight his way through this, but it is absolute torture to wait long enough for them to pass.

Eventually, though, there is no trace of them. An elk even begins grazing nearby, so Connor takes the signal to run as fast as his legs will carry him, back to Ryan.

He barely reaches the second marker he had left before he hears a choked whine to his right. He stops immediately and about-faces, ambivalent whether he wants that sound to be Ryan or not.

Connor knows that it is, in fact, Ryan from the moment he sees the blue tunic peeking through the grass.

“Ryan,” Connor gasps, scrambling to get his companion free from the tangle of underbrush. There’s blood on the leaves surrounding the area and as Connor pulls more shrubs away, he can see that Ryan is terribly injured. His left shoulder appears to be the major source of the bleeding, with a deep crimson circle encompassing the area and thick red lines running down Ryan’s muddy forearm.

“We have to take you back to the village,” Connor says. “Where are the horses?”

“Gone,” Ryan chokes out. His eyes are half-lidded, but he still manages to look incredibly worried. “Connor, are you alright?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Connor assures, thankful for Ryan’s consideration. “Ryan, we need to get help!” He whips his satchel open and digs for something, anything that can help.

A wave of relief hits him when he realizes he has the aid materials that Dylan had packed for him on his person, but mentally chastises himself for not knowing that in the first place.

“Shh, it will all be alright,” Connor says, attempting to sound soothing and calm, pushing down the panic. He rips the cloth from Ryan’s shoulder away completely and gets to work cleaning it.

The wound is easy enough to clean but it’s deep. Connor does his best to wrap it tight while not cutting off circulation to Ryan’s arm, while also keeping Ryan from passing out with little nudges.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ryan whispers. They haven’t heard anyone walk by since Connor had found Ryan, but Connor appreciates Ryan’s precaution. And, well, his thoughtfulness.

“I’m fine, they didn’t see me. Here, drink some water.” Connor hands Ryan one of the canteens and helps Ryan sit up, carefully monitoring his now-wrapped shoulder.

“Thank you,” Ryan says. He moves his shoulder a little and hisses, but makes a small circle with it. “This feels secure. You did a good job.”

“I should have listened to you,” Connor says, unable to hide his regret and fear any longer. “I am so sorry, Ryan.”

“It isn’t your fault. I should have insisted.” Ryan moves as if to stand, but Connor puts a hand on his uninjured shoulder.

“Are you sure you are alright? Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Ryan shakes his head. “I managed to escape with just this flesh wound.”

Connor scoffs. “Well, if you’re making jokes, maybe you are able to get up. We should find a safer spot to rest. If we are going to finish this quest on foot, we need to take care of ourselves.”

“Well, well, look who we found,” a familiar voice says from behind them.

Connor whips around to see the group that had injured Ryan, forming a semicircle around them. Connor draws his sword without a second thought, stepping in front of where Ryan is still sitting in the brush.

“Stay behind me,” Connor whispers to Ryan. Then, turning back to the group, “we mean you no harm, and you already have all of our belongings. What more could you want from us?”

“Not _you_ ,” a woman, no older than Connor but with the wear of a life spent in the wilderness. “Your friend from the other side of the mountains.”

“What?” Connor says, but doesn’t chance a look back at Ryan. Any drop in his guard could mean the end of them both.

“We have to get out of here,” Ryan says. Connor agrees, but he cannot take on all eight of them and keep Ryan safe at the same time. They’re surrounded.

“Just give us your friend, and you can go on with your life. We won’t hurt you, I swear it,” the first man says. He looks sincere, but Connor would die before handing his companion over.

He says as much, and a few of the people in the group chuckle. They start to advance, and a few of their swords seem to glow an impossible red.

“Very well,” the man says. His sword is definitely glowing, and Connor is nearly stunned by it until it comes swinging towards him and he has to block it last-minute.

He side-steps a few other attacks and blocks more with his sword, but he is overpowered. It’s as if the swords are made of lead, nearly impossible to hold back, tiring him out faster than any fight has before.

“Connor, _move,_ ” Ryan commands, nearly pushing Connor over as he stands up. Connor has the briefest moment to notice the look of sheer rage and determination on Ryan’s face before blocking another hit, this one nearly knocking his sword out of his hands.

“Ryan, no!” Connor exclaims. He is injured and his sword is still stowed. There is nothing he could possibly do to save them-

And then Ryan’s eyes are glowing a bright purple, and so are his arms and hands, brightest at his fingertips. Connor watches in shock as Ryan seems to push the purple light surrounding him outwards, forcing the bandits’ bodies into the air and flying backwards. They all crash to the ground with a _thud_ , one flying far enough back to slam into a tree. He falls to the forest floor and does not move.

Connor is stunned still, gaping at Ryan. This is- but surely, magic does not exist, that is a fact as true as the sunrise, something he had learned growing up and every day since.

Ryan’s gaze meets Connor’s, eyes still glowing. He’s panting as his eyes fade, and he reaches his good arm towards Connor.

“Come on, Connor, we need to run,” Ryan says. Connor, without a second thought, grabs Ryan’s hand, snapped out of his awestruck trance.

They run as far and as fast as they can, Ryan leading the way. He’s long since let go of Connor’s hand but Connor feels as if he is being tugged along anyway, a thousand thoughts and questions running through his mind, a small part of him twinging with the hurt of dishonesty, betrayal.

They finally stop up for a moment, Ryan clutching his injured shoulder.

“Ryan,” Connor starts, but Ryan cuts him off, looking back the way they came. His eyes glow a deep gold, but it does not spread to any other part of him. Connor follows Ryan’s gaze but sees nothing.

“They are still pursuing us,” Ryan says. He looks concerned, and Connor wishes there was something he could do to help. All he can muster, though, is a greater sense of helplessness.

He is about to ask what he could possibly do to help when he notices the sound of water. He and Ryan share a tentative look.

“Sir Jordan warned me of a waterfall in these woods,” Connor says, suddenly worried. If this is the waterfall at which Jordan and Taylor had lost everything - that may very well be _magical_ , for goodness sake -  then they may have to fight the oncoming threat instead of continuing.

Ryan looks to Connor, takes a deep breath. “Do you trust me?” he asks.

Despite everything, Connor does not hesitate to say, “Yes.”

“Follow me,” Ryan says. “And do exactly as I say.”

Then they’re running again, Connor clutching his satchel closely. He is not surprised when they clear the trees and see the waterfall.

They are at the base of it, where it turns into a steady river, and it is monstrous. It extends as high as the towering trees, and the sound of the water hitting the river isn’t exactly thunderous, but it is close to it. The river itself is filled with large boulders that are assaulted by rapids, which only seem to calm down in the distance. There is no telling how deep the water is, but the spray flies high enough to dampen Connor’s shoes.

“The coin the woman at the inn gave you,” Ryan says, turning to Connor. “Throw it in the water, now.”

Connor rushes to comply, finding the coin easily. He flips it over in his hand once before throwing it into the water, and is surprised that nothing around them really changes.

“Come on, we have to cross it,” Ryan says. He is clutching his left arm to his side but heading towards the river nonetheless, and Connor follows on his right side.

“Ryan, you- can you swim?” Connor asks. Ryan has already disclosed that he doesn’t do well in water, so Connor isn’t sure how this will work. Surely, there must be another way.

“The water is not too deep, just strong,” Ryan says, lowering himself to the ground slowly. “Stay on my right and we should be fine.”

Connor obliges, sitting down and then dipping his feet into the water. It’s ice cold and he nearly shouts in surprise, but he takes a breath and lowers himself until his feet are touching the sand and rocks below. The water hits just below his chest, and he breathes a sigh of relief that it will not bother Ryan’s shoulder too much.

Connor helps Ryan into the bank and links his arm. Ryan is shivering, hard, but his jaw is set and his eyes are focused on the grass on the other side. At the pace they’re going, it should only take a few minutes to cross the river, but with every step fatigue and ice set deeper into Connor’s muscles and bones.

“Can you...can you do something about this?” Connor asks when they are nearly halfway across. He doesn’t know how to ask about Ryan’s abilities, doesn’t know if he should.

“I cannot,” Ryan says, still looking ahead. “The coin you threw confused the magic of the waterfall so it cannot harm us as we cross, but it interferes with my magic as well.”

That raises more questions, but Connor stows them away for a time when they are not nearly freezing to death.

They’re nearly across, which is maybe why Connor doesn’t check his footing as carefully as he should. His foot slips on a rock and a wave of panic crashes into him as he slips beneath the water’s surface momentarily, a sharp burst of pain coming from his ankle as he gashes the area on the sharp rocks below. He recovers quickly, righting himself and finding solid footing, but Ryan is looking at him with more fear and concern than Connor has ever seen before.

“We need to get out of this water. Now.” Ryan’s voice is low and grave, and the two of them nearly sprint the rest of the way to the bank. Something is tightening around Connor’s injured ankle like an icy anchor, making it nearly impossible to lift his foot, but Ryan keeps him going just enough that they pull themselves out of the bank only moments later.

When Connor turns to sit, though, he yells in surprise when he sees an icy shackle around his injured ankle, growing in width and length right before his eyes.

“Ryan!” Connor exclaims, trying not to yell out again in pain as the shackle begins to tighten. Ryan rips Connor’s shoe off and pushes up his pantleg, his eyes wide. Searing pain shoots up Connor’s leg as the veins in his foot turn an electric blue, as if the ice has penetrated his leg itself.

Just as he thinks he will pass out from the pain, he hears a voice so similar to his own but so different, it sets a different kind of chill down his spine.

_You will lose everything._

“No!” Connor cries weakly. He sees a flash of purple before losing consciousness.

\--

Connor blinks his eyes open slowly to see small flames dancing to his right, Ryan huddled over eating some form of game beside them.

Ryan notices Connor’s attention and turns to him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You need to rest, Connor. There will be food when your body has finished healing.”

Connor looks down at his ankle, now in a wrap of dirt and cloth. It throbs, but only dully. It takes him a moment to remember the events leading to this, and he startles when it all comes back to him.

“You-” Connor starts, but Ryan shushes him.

“I will explain everything once you are healed. For now, sleep.”

It is almost too easy for Connor to close his eyes again, letting exhaustion and the promise of the truth lull him back to unconsciousness.

\--

When Connor awakens again, the sun has set and there is a slight chill in the air. The only light is coming from the small fire that Ryan has built, and Ryan himself is staring into it, eyes lit by the flames but stare vacant and expressionless. His bandaged shoulder looks intact, though Connor doesn’t know if it is healing.

“Ryan?” Connor says with trepidation. He begins pushing himself up to a sitting position, but is momentarily stalled by his inability to move his foot. He looks to it and almost yelps when he sees that it’s surrounded by some sort of large, glowing, green orb.

Ryan stands and comes over and holds his hand out to the orb, moving it without touching it. He helps Connor settle into a seated position with his injured foot laid out long. Connor is mesmerized by the small pulsations the orb emits, rhythmic and soothing.

“What is this?” Connor asks. Ryan sits down in the same spot he had before, nearly across the fire from Connor. He feels too distant.

“The river attacked your lower leg, and I am trying to combat the damage,” Ryan says. He sounds exhausted. Connor wonders how long he has been asleep, how long Ryan has been awake.

“Is it… will I lose my leg?” Connor asks. The words _you will lose everything_ run through his mind and his stomach clenches in fear.

Ryan’s eyebrows are furrowed as he looks down into the fire. “It is doubtful. I got all of the forest magic out and replaced it with healing magic, so I expect you will be back to normal in a few days.”

It still hits Connor like a punch to the chest when Ryan talks about magic. He feels betrayed, lied to; not just by Ryan, by everyone. Who else knows? Did the King know exactly what he was sending them into, and sent them anyway?

“You are thinking too loud,” Ryan says, corner of his mouth twitching. Before Connor can ask, he says, “No, I cannot read your mind. But I imagine you have many questions.”

Connor does, but he also worries about Ryan’s health.

“You should rest, first,” Connor says. “I can keep watch while you sleep, and wake you up if anything happens.”

Ryan smiles. The rings under his eyes become even more apparent as he shifts. “It will be day soon, and we will need to move.”

“So rest until then,” Connor argues. He wishes there was something he could do, some way to convince Ryan that he needs to look after himself as well as he’s looked after Connor.

Maybe it’s the way Connor sounds and looks so insistent, maybe it’s the truth of the fatigue finally hitting Ryan, but Ryan agrees.

“Eat this, then,” Ryan says, handing Connor the game that had been cooked over the fire. Connor takes it and begins eating before Ryan settles back down. Ryan uses his satchel as a pillow and is asleep almost instantly.

Connor half-expects the orb around his ankle to fade away as Ryan sleeps, but it stays pulsing just as brightly as before. He inspects it; it is translucent everywhere but where Connor had cut his ankle open, and when he tries to lift his leg it is not as if there is a weight bearing down on it, more as if he has no muscles in his leg to obey his request.

It’s fascinating and beautiful, the way the sunrise on the river is. He doesn’t dare touch it, but he wants to know what it feels like.

The time passes slowly but Connor stays on high alert. There is very little movement around them, the sound of the small cracking fire the loudest noise around.

A traitorous part of Connor’s brain takes forefront, causing him to consider why Ryan would keep this all a secret. It is not something someone could forget to mention. Maybe it was to protect him, but what purpose would ignorance play in protection?

He decides to give Ryan the benefit of the doubt, and assume the best in him. He has not truly given Connor any reason to think otherwise.

Ryan makes a noise in his sleep and shivers, huddling closer into himself. Connor wants so badly to be able to give Ryan something to warm up, but all of their blankets and belongings were on the horses that those bandits had stolen. They still have their cloaks, but they are still drying from the river. He attempts to drag himself across the forest floor to get closer to Ryan, maybe offer some body heat, but the orb holds him in place. He tends to the fire, keeping it going, appreciates its warmth.

The sun begins to rise through the trees not long after, and Connor closes his eyes to pretend he is on his raft again, the familiarity of the river surrounding him. It calms something in his stomach, his shoulders relaxing. When he opens them again, the scene around him hasn’t changed, but he is less anxious, less fearful, than he did not even realize he had been.

Connor lets Ryan sleep until the sun is high in the sky and offering a blanket of warmth. It has been many hours and Ryan had said he had wanted to get moving, so Connor says, not too quietly, “Ryan.”

Ryan startles awake, muttering a weak “huh?” When he collects himself and looks to Connor, he blinks a few times and gives Connor a once-over.

“Everything is alright, we aren’t in danger,” Connor says calmly. “The day has begun, is all.”

Ryan smiles and sits up straight, brushing some dirt and leaves off of himself with his good arm. “Thank you, Connor. I feel much better.”

“I am glad,” Connor says. He’s suddenly at a loss for words. He isn’t sure whether it is time to ask questions. There is one thing he needs Ryan to know, though.

“I trust you,” Connor says, looking at Ryan with all the intent and honesty he can muster. “But I need the truth, Ryan. Including why you neglected to tell me about… all of this before we ran into trouble. Before we left, even.”

Ryan sighs, shoulders falling just a bit. He looks...remorseful.

“I am not from the village in the forest,” Ryan begins. “I am from beyond the mountains, a village of a kingdom no one else knows exists.”

Connor had been told on many accounts that no life is to the west of the Great Mountains. To hear that there is an entire kingdom beyond is astonishing.

Ryan continues. “Magic exists in this kingdom, and everywhere west of the mountains. Everyone born there receives some way to control magic. Me, I am a sentinel. I was my family’s protector. I can find the path ahead, and my senses are stronger than most. My combat and healing magic are not my forte, though.”

Connor nearly laughs; from what he has seen, all of Ryan’s magic has been impressive.

“Why did you leave?” Connor asks.

Ryan pokes at the fire, staring at it instead of at Connor. “I guess it was a simple act of rebellion. Our kingdom has been nothing but prosperous, but that is because we keep everything to ourselves. Magic keeps us safe, hidden. It does not want to be discovered by the rest of the world.”

“I had grown tired of a simple life, and wanted adventure. Escaping was… not easy. I wish I could say that people did not get hurt along the way, but the magic of the forest west of the mountains wanted to change my mind. I stayed in an abandoned house by the village we stayed in for nearly a fortnight recovering, only leaving to get supplies. I managed a horse and came to the kingdom, and fell deeply in love with the idea of becoming a knight. Hiding my magic became easy, until my two best friends were sent on a quest to the west.”

Connor nearly gasps, his stomach in knots. “Taylor and Jordan.”

Ryan bites his lip, blinks his eyes too many times. “I tried to stop them, to warn them, and even tried to convince the king to put me on the quest. It did not work, and they were punished. They… well, Taylor cannot remember anything, and Jordan said he never wanted to hear my voice again.”

“I…” Connor isn’t sure what to say. He has no idea what that sense of loss feels like. “I am sorry, Ryan. Jordan was probably angry and upset; I doubt he blames you.”

Ryan shakes his head. “He said he learned about what I could do, how I could have protected them if I had tried. I do not think he has the capacity to forgive me.”

“You did everything you could have, and now you are here, protecting me,” Connor says.

Ryan’s smile is weak and he is still staring at the fire, but his shoulders relax a little bit. “The king was kind to remember that I had wanted to go on the quest in the first place. I would not be able to live with myself if I had to watch another two honourable knights be harmed by this forest. I did not want to tell you in fear that revealing my magic in any way would endanger you, reveal you to the forest as a threat. I was foolish. I know you will argue with me about that, but there is nothing you can do to change my mind on that.

The thing is, Connor wants to tell Ryan that he is not foolish anyway. But from what he has been learning about Ryan, there is no use in even offering his argument as comfort. Instead, he focuses on diverting Ryan’s attention from his self-deprecation, asking the next question which comes easily to him. “So what are we going to do now? Do we find our way back to the kingdom, tell them the quest has failed?”

“I cannot in good conscience allow any settlements here, but the king is insistent on expansion. We must go back to the kingdom and change his mind. The village in the forest is lucky to still be standing; everywhere around it, the magic was angry, trying to harm them.”

“You talk about magic as if it is alive,” Connor observes.

Ryan nods, finally looks to Connor. “Essentially, yes. We do not fully understand it ourselves, but magic exists in places where humans do not control it. This forest, for example, has magic in nearly every being, protecting itself from potential harm. The waterfall is especially powerful as water exhibits every facet of magic; it is one of the main protectors of the first, stopping anyone without the ability to control magic to continue.”

Connor blinks. “It let me continue.”

“You confused it,” Ryan counters, smiling. “The coin the woman gave you disrupts the magic of the area, as long as the caster is healthy. It was able to attack once you slipped on the rock.”

“Why hasn’t the forest attacked us - _me_ \- again?” Connor asks.

Ryan’s mouth twitches. “I cannot be certain. I will do everything I can to protect you, Connor. To get you back to the kingdom safely.”

“And I you,” Connor vows. “Though, I am not certain I can do so with my leg immobilized.”

Connor expects Ryan to laugh, to explain that he will lift that magic when Connor has healed enough, but that does not happen. Instead, Ryan blinks like a deer caught in the headlights. He looks to Connor’s ankle, holds his hand out to it. The orb shrinks into a shape that resembles the bandaging beneath it, but as Ryan tries to take his hand away, silver sparks fly out in every direction from Connor’s entire leg.

“Ryan?” Connor asks, trying not to panic. He tries to move his leg and fails, tries to simply tighten the muscles of his thighs and cannot do that either.

“That is not my magic,” Ryan half-whispers. He tries again and this time the silver sparks shoot out farther, a few nearly hitting Ryan. One spark hits a tree branch and everything is still for a moment, and then the branch falls to the ground, perfectly severed off.

“What is going on?” Connor asks hysterically. He’s panicking now, can’t help the way he’s hyperventilating. He can’t move his leg; how long until that spreads to the rest of his body?

“Connor, sleep,” Ryan says, and Connor turns to see a deep blue light coming towards him from Ryan’s hands.

His head falls back down to the forest floor and everything goes black.

\--

_“Connor!” Dylan yells. He’s trapped behind a wall of fire, sword drawn._

_Connor looks around and the world is ablaze. “Dylan, I’ll get you out of there!” He shouts back._

_“Connor, come on, we have to hurry!”_

_It’s only then that Connor notices it isn’t Dylan who’s trapped, it’s him_.

You can never return, _a voice says. Connor recognizes it from the waterfall._

_“Dylan! Dylan!” Connor calls out, ignoring the voice._

_But Dylan is gone, and the flames rise up as the mysterious voice chants_ never, never, never _._

\--

Connor starts awake, gasping for air. Ryan is right there at his side, one hand on Connor’s back, the other holding a canteen of water.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Ryan says calmly. “It’s just a dream, it isn’t real.”

Connor gets his breathing under control, then slowly grabs for the canteen. The water is cool and refreshing. Connor drinks almost half a canteen before giving it back.

“Thank you,” Connor says.

Ryan’s still close, his hand still on Connor’s back and a sad look in his eyes.

“I did everything I could to fix it,” Ryan says, gesturing to Connor’s leg. “But this is the best I could do.”

Ryan’s best appears to be a faintly-glowing purple leg cast that extends from Connor’s toes to hip. Connor tries flexing his foot and grins when it works. He continues testing it - rotating his ankle, bending his knee, wiggling his toes - and it all works. He tries touching it, but the cast prevents him from getting too close.

“It’s a barrier, so it cannot be damaged further,” Ryan explains. “I could not rid the foreign magic from your leg without destroying your ankle, so this is a temporary fix until I can get you to a healer.”

“It is more than enough,” Connor says. “Thank you. But, a healer? Where will we need to go for that?”

Ryan sighs. “I know of one that lives just to the east of the mountains. He helped me on my journey east all those years ago. It isn’t more than few days’ walk from here, but my powers are weakened. Much of my energy is pouring into keeping your leg functional, so I will not be able to defend us well if we are challenged.”

Connor feels a pang of guilt, though he knows this is not really his fault. “Could we somehow draw a spiral on it, to confuse the magic?”

Ryan shakes his head. “It would interfere with my magic as well. It may be an option if your ankle heals during this time, but I cannot be sure it ever will.”

“We will deal with that if we must,” Connor says with more bravery than he is really feeling. “For now, let us begin.”

Ryan helps Connor up, then focuses on Connor’s leg. The purple glow dims until it is only nearly visible.

“Now we are less noticeable,” Ryan says. Since Connor has woken up, Ryan has not smiled once, and Connor wants so badly to change that.

“You are doing a fantastic job, Ryan,” Connor assures. He puts a hand on Ryan’s shoulder and Ryan looks at it momentarily before looking at Connor again. He isn’t smiling but there’s something different in his expression, and Connor becomes acutely aware of how close they are standing.

Connor clears his throat and moves a half-step away, adjusts his already-adjusted satchel, and begins walking. Ryan catches up and matches Connor in stride.

Connor thinks he hears Ryan mutter a small “thank you”, but he cannot be sure.

\--

The next two days are, fortunately, uneventful. They don’t talk much in fear of giving themselves away, though they share hopeful smiles every so often.

Ryan clutches his injured shoulder one too many times for Connor’s liking, so he finally convinces Ryan to rest near a clearing. Connor plops down onto the grass and pulls his sword out to rest beside him, Ryan doing the same.

“Do we have any water left?” Ryan asks. His voice is soft, but then again, it usually is.

Connor checks their canteens with maybe too much hope. “No,” he sighs. He looks in his pockets for anything that they could eat or use, and that’s when he pulls out the ties he had been using to mark their path.

“I guess we will not be needing these anymore,” Connor jokes.

Ryan smiles, grabs for one and fiddles with it between his fingers. “I wanted to tell you, to warn you,” he says. “But I was afraid that the forest, that magic, would be angry with me for sharing the secret.”

“I do not blame you, Ryan,” Connor says.

Ryan hands the tie back, their fingers brushing just slightly. Connor stows the ties back in his pockets. He is about to ask Ryan when he thinks they can start walking again, when Ryan sits up straight, hand on his sword, eyebrows furrowed.

“Ryan?” Connor whispers carefully, grabbing for his own sword.

“Someone is…” Ryan trails off. His eyes begin to glow golden yellow, though not as strong as before. His hand relaxes on his sword and Connor feels a small amount of relief, though he is still very confused as to what is going on.

It is less than a minute later that Ryan’s eyes fade back to normal. He looks to Connor, smiling, and stands up.

“We have help,” Ryan says. “Come on, it is not much farther now. We will reach our destination tomorrow, but we must walk a little bit more before we can rest safely.”

Hope has never been stronger in Connor’s heart this entire quest, and he springs up to standing from it. “Who is helping us?” He asks.

“Another sentinel,” Ryan says as they walk through the clearing. “I do not know them, but they are at the healer’s cabin. They have shown me the safest path, assured our protection on our journey there.”

“Thank goodness,” is all Connor can manage. They needed a miracle, and it appears they are getting one.

Ryan leads the way, as he has for the entire trip, but he does so with an almost spring to his step now. They stop at a stream and the water is so cool and fresh that Connor drinks two whole canteens of it before filling up for the rest of their walk. They even find bushes with deep red berries on them, and they help themselves once Ryan has deemed them safe to eat. It does not do much to settle Connor’s ravenous appetite, but it is something.

They break through the thick of the forest to walk onto a lookout, and the view is breathtaking. Connor had heard the mountains were tall enough to reach the sky, but he did not believe it until now. A large valley lies between them and the mountains, a glacial river running across part of it.

“This is beautiful,” Connor says. As far as he can see in either direction, the wall of mountains stand tall, snow visible at the peaks but otherwise nearly covered in trees.

Ryan is smiling and lets out a deep breath. “It is just as beautiful as I had remembered,” he says reverently. “I could see the mountains from my family’s home to the west. I had almost forgotten what it is like to stare at them, to feel insignificant in the best way.”

Connor doesn’t think Ryan’s remarks need a reply. Instead, he stands there beside him, breathing in the freshest air he thinks he will ever experience, and tries to commit the scene to memory.

“Come on,” Ryan says a while later. “There are caves this way where we can sleep safely tonight. Tomorrow, we will cross the valley and find the home of the ones who will help us.”

The caves themselves are also beautiful. Connor can imagine bears hibernating here in the long winters, wolves making dens for their pack. Ryan picks one and Connor makes the fire. It’s a cold night, the wind whistling through the trees and making the hair stand up on Connor’s arms. The cave helps some, but as Connor settles down to sleep, his whole body shivers. He wishes for a blanket, something more than the feeble fire that may blow out during the night.

“We are going to freeze if we are not careful,” Ryan says dutifully, settling down directly in front of Connor. He lays down on his side, on his good shoulder, his back to the mouth of the cave. It blocks the wind for Connor and he feels warmer instantly, instinctively moving in closer to Ryan without worrying if they are too close. The fire is behind him and he feels that warmth too.

“May I ask you a question?” Connor asks. He and Ryan are sharing the same air, Ryan’s face lit orange by the flames.

“Anything,” Ryan answers.

“Did you know I was the one also chosen for this quest before you accepted? Would it have mattered at all?” It’s a lot to ask but Connor has been unable to get it off of his mind. He holds his breath for Ryan’s reply.

The corner of Ryan’s mouth twitches, and he moves to tangle their legs together. “I did not know, and to be truthful, I had hoped it would not have been you who was chosen. You deserve to be in the Kingsguard but this quest was...well, I did not know if I could fully protect my companion. I guess I was right.”

Connor shakes his head as best he can against the forest floor, rests his hand on Ryan’s forearm. “It was my own mistake, Ryan. There was nothing you could have done. You are protecting me more than anyone ever could have, and when we are healed and return to the castle, we will _both_ be named into the Kingsguard.”

Ryan’s eyes are gleaming as he smiles, close-mouthed. “You are a good man, Connor. You are a great knight and a loyal friend, but that is all because you are good.”

They stare at each other for a long, silent moment. The urge to lean in, to kiss Ryan, is so strong, but Connor resists. Eventually, they fall asleep facing one another, the crackle of the fire solid behind them.

\--

A cold gust of wind awakens Connor from a deep sleep and he reaches for his sword, ready to defend himself and Ryan from any threat, magical or not. When he sits up, though, he cannot see any reason to be worried. Ryan is still sleeping quietly, pressed up as much against Connor as possible. It only occurs to Connor then that Ryan had been wrapped around Connor’s back; he so badly wants to lay back down and feel Ryan’s warmth and touch, but if Ryan were to awaken as Connor did so, he may die from embarrassment.

He turns to the fire instead. It has blown out at some time in the night, but there are a few coals burning underneath the charred wood. Though the sun is brightening the cave in soft yellow rays, it is still early, and Ryan would enjoy waking up to a warm fire before they set off.

Connor tries to stand but feels the familiar dread when he cannot; his leg is immobilized, the purple glow gone with only the green around his ankle remaining. Ryan’s magic must have worn off or burned out in the night. Connor debates waking Ryan up or not, finally setting on the importance of a fire.

“Ryan,” Connor says, pushing at Ryan’s shoulder softly. It only takes a nudge to wake Ryan, and he blinks sleepily before looking at Connor.

“Good morning,” Ryan says sleepily. Then, his face twisting up, “Is something wrong?”

Connor shakes his head. “Your magic for my leg has worn off, I believe. I wanted to make us a fire, but…” He shrugs and points to his injured leg, pushing down any sense of fear.

Ryan sits up, and it’s only then that Connor notices the deep, purple circles underneath Ryan’s eyes. He hopes harnessing magic for his benefit is not the reason for Ryan’s exhaustion, though he cannot help but think that it is.

“I am sorry,” Ryan apologizes. Connor wants to tell him not to be foolish, but Ryan is already focused on helping Connor’s leg. The purple returns, though sharp sparks run through Connor’s leg as the colour intensifies. He hisses involuntarily, and Ryan pulls away.

“It’s fine,” Connor reassures. “It just stings a bit.”

Ryan’s eyebrows furrow, and he studies Connor’s leg. “Can you move it?” he asks.

Connor can, and there is no further pain. He stands to prove it. “Shall I make us a fire, then?” he asks.

“I think it would be best if we got going,” Ryan says. “As long as you are feeling well enough to walk.”

“Of course,” Connor confirms, so they take off down to the clearing.

If Connor had thought the view of the mountains was beautiful the day before, he had no way of preparing for the sight this morning. The dawning sun shines brightly on the mountains in such a way that even the lingering shadows look bright, each jagged cut to the rocks and trees defined but soft. It is only complimented further by the sky as crisp and blue as the lake to the right, by the deep green of the pine trees and bright emerald of the elms.

Ryan is waiting patiently for Connor to come back to reality, smiling at him. Connor returns the smile and follows, ignoring the stiffness in his leg as best he can.

\--

The valley they walk through is deceptively long. Connor tries his best to focus on the treeline at the base of the mountain, but his leg stiffens and drags at times, the purple glow flickering menacingly every time. His body aches with every moment and Ryan looks no better. Every time Connor falters, Ryan stiffens and offers Connor his arm solemnly. It’s only after they are nearly through the valley that Ryan stops them, rounding on Connor with a stern look.

“My magic is failing. I cannot continue my healing magic on your ankle if I wish to continue the functional magic on your leg. We still must scale the mountain partway to find the healer’s home. If I signal their help, I may draw more danger to us.” He says it with sadness, as if he has failed Connor in some way.

Connor considers the possibilities. “Let us go somewhere hidden. Keep my leg as functional as you can, but please do not strain yourself.” He may have not chosen his words wisely, as he fears Ryan has already nearly strained himself to breaking.

Still, Ryan agrees, and they continue on. Ryan’s shoulders slump more and more, and Connor would do anything to help him if he wasn’t focused on staying upright himself. Suddenly, the long days of travelling pile up in Connor’s mind and he thinks for the first time that he never should have accepted this quest.

He falls, landing on his knees, his bad leg dead beneath him. The gravel in the grass cuts into his palms as he flips himself around. Ryan kneels down beside him, but falls to his knees too.

“Can you call for help?” Connor asks. “Are you… you can take all your energy from my leg, Ryan. You need to be healed too.” If he has to lose his leg to whatever the magic is doing to him, at least Ryan may be okay.

“I will try,” Ryan says. Gold sparks flicker at his fingertips, getting stronger as Ryan breathes deeply. As they strengthen, they gather in Ryan’s hands as balls of energy and shoot straight up into the air. They travel up, up, and then explode into a thousand golden raindrops, disappearing before they return back to Ryan and Connor.

Connor stares in awe as the sparks continue. Suddenly, though, they stop, and he sees movement in his periphery right before he hears the dull _thud_ of Ryan’s body hitting the ground.

“Ryan! Ryan!” Connor shouts. Ryan’s eyes are closed and he simply looks asleep, but his chest isn’t moving. Connor moves in closely and can feel short breaths against his cheek. At least Ryan is breathing, but for how much longer?

“He is too weak,” a voice says.

Connor looks up in alarm, back straightening. The man who spoke is dressed in several layers of simple clothing, no sense of menace or defense in his stance.

“Are you the healer?” Connor asks.

“I will bring you both to him,” the man replies. He studies Connor quickly before fashioning the purple brace back onto Connor’s leg. The green healing energy strengthens too, and Connor is able to stand.

Connor expects the man to wake Ryan up, but instead an almost coffin-like shape surrounds Ryan, silver but not sparkling. It lifts Ryan’s resting body off the ground, waist-high, and carries him behind them as they walk.

“What is your name?” Connor asks.

“Ryan, though everyone calls me Smytty,” He says. “I know your companion is also named Ryan, but I do not know your name.”

“Connor,” Connor replies simply. “Thank you for your help.”

Smytty smiles. “You are most welcome. You two are very brave, and very strong for having made it this far. I promise it is not much farther before you can rest.”

Smytty’s word is good, as Connor can see the telltale smoke of a chimney just above the treeline higher up the mountain. The incline increases dramatically from that point and Connor finds himself looking back to make sure Ryan is still safe with every turn.

Finally, they come upon a cabin made of stone. It fits into the side of the mountain and trees so well it could have almost come out of the steep rocks themselves. A lively garden spans the area in front and wraps around the sides, protected by a small but sturdy fence.

“Andrew is waiting for you inside,” Smytty says. Before Connor can ask, he adds, “I will be taking Ryan around to the side to a room of his own. You will take longer to work on. Ryan needs rest first. Do not worry.”

With more bravery than he thought he would need, Connor nods and walks through the front door.

The inside matches the outside in inviting Connor in, both in sight and sense. A fire burns under a mantle of stone, solid furniture surrounding it. A kitchen is only steps straight ahead from Connor, a staircase beside that. A man whom Connor assumes to be Andrew is walking down the staircase. He is wearing clothing very similar to Smytty, though less layers.

“Good afternoon," he says. He holds his hand out and Connor shakes it. “My name is Andrew.”

“I am Connor,” Connor replies. “Thank you for having me in your home.”

“You are welcome,” Andrew says. He takes one look at Connor, up and down, and straightens. “We must get you to your room immediately.”

Connor doesn’t say much after that, just follows Andrew to a room filled with blankets and bottles. He lays down on what appears to be a simple wooden table, but it is more comfortable than any bed he has ever laid upon. Almost immediately his eyelids grow heavy, his mind calming.

“I will do my best to heal you,” Andrew says calmly. “What I need you to do now is rest.”

Between one breath and the next, Connor is asleep.

\--

Connor awakens in the same room in which he had fallen asleep. The room is only shadows now, and Andrew is nowhere to be seen.

Connor pushes himself up onto his elbows and examines his leg. All light is gone from it, though there is a small wrapping of cloth around his ankle. He very carefully tries to move it, and is flooded with relief as it moves with every minute motion he thinks of.

There is movement outside of the door and, for some reason, Connor follows his instinct to lay back down on the table and stay quiet. The sound of two voices that Connor places as Ryan and Smytty come through, though they are quiet.

“...could not have made it here without your help,” Ryan says.

“You nearly pushed yourself too far, Ryan,” Smytty replies. “I was on my way to you two far before you casted your plea for help, and you knew that.”

Ryan’s voice is even quieter when he says, “I had to be sure you could find us.”

Smytty sighs. “I know the feeling, Ryan. The need to protect. Especially for someone you care so deeply for.” There is a pause as if Ryan is going to interject, but it is Smytty who continues speaking. “You should not be afraid to want what you do, either. If I am to be so bold as to say that.”

They move away and Connor misses the rest of their conversation, but he falls asleep again with a new kind of knot in his stomach.

\--

Connor sleeps better than he can ever remember. When he sits up straight he takes stock of his body: his head no longer throbs with dehydration and he feels wide awake, his back, shoulders, and legs no longer ache, and above all, both his legs function on their own.

Elated, he recognizes the one thing he needs - food. He slides himself off of the table - and yes, when he checks again, it appears to be a simple table, not an indescribably comfortable bed - and pads out the door. Only then does he notice that he is still wearing the same clothes as before, and he makes a mental note to wash himself as soon as he has satiated his hunger.

A glorious smell wafts through the air and Connor follows it, letting it take him to the kitchen where he finds Ryan, Andrew, and Smytty eating and speaking quietly. They all turn to him as he approaches, but only Ryan stands up and meets Connor halfway.

“How are you feeling?” Ryan asks. He holds Connor’s shoulders and looks at Connor up and down, and Connor tries not to shy under the attention.

“Like a new person,” Connor replies. “Though I must admit, I am starving.”

“There is plenty of food here,” Ryan says, turning to show Connor the giant plates of breakfast the three of them are eating from. “I can make you an omelette, if you would like.”

An omelette sounds wonderful, so Connor sits on a chair with the other men and says a thank-you when a large mug of water is handed to him. He drinks it all before Ryan has even finished cracking the eggs into a large stoneware pan.

“How is that leg of yours?” Andrew asks as he refills Connor’s mug.

“It is as good as new,” Connor says, happily wiggling his bare toes.

Andrew grins widely. “I am pleased. That was no simple magic the water had attacked you with. You are lucky Ryan was able to protect you from further harm, and keep your leg functional at the same time.”

Before Connor can parrot the sentiment, Smytty says, “Yes, well, the magic in that sword Ryan had been struck with was no easy fix, either.”

Connor sees Ryan stiffen with his back turned to him. He should have known Ryan would hide how serious his injury really was from Connor.

“Indeed,” Andrew agrees. “Though that was much simpler magic. Easy to remove and heal, only complicated by how weak Ryan was.”

“This is all very fascinating, I must admit. There is so much that I did not know, only a short while ago. But now I worry for our journey back,” Connor says.

“You must rest for a few days at least,” Andrew says with a finality that Connor knows he cannot argue with.

“I have collected many supplies for the two of you to aid your journey home, when you are ready,” Smytty offers.

“We cannot possibly take your belongings,” Connor argues.

Smytty shakes his head. “I can assure you that you can, and you will. It is a long journey back, even with Ryan’s horse for you to ride.”

“You have a horse here?” Connor asks, puzzled. Ryan, at the same time, brings over Connor’s omelette, and it is humongous, packed with a rainbow of vegetables. It is piping hot but so delicious that Connor does not slow down as he eats it.

When he looks up again, Ryan is staring at the floor, his mouth drooping into a frown. “She tried to follow me when I escaped home,” Ryan explains. “I could not ensure her safety and cared too much for her, so I left her here with Andrew as a thank-you gift for his hospitality.”

“My home is available to you whenever you need it,” Andrew says. “Isidora has served me well over the years, but I am sure she will be overjoyed to have you back again.”

Ryan’s face lifts. “May I see her now?” he asks.

“Of course,” Andrew replies. “Smytty, you may accompany Ryan to the stable. Connor, I would like to examine your leg again, and then you will need to rest more.”

“May I bathe first?” Connor asks, too shy.

Andrew laughs. “Of course.”

\--

The few days that Connor and Ryan stay in the mountains are so serene and relaxing that Connor almost wishes to ask that they never have to leave. Staring out into the endless trees, at mountains that hypnotize with their monstrous beauty, smelling the freshest air ever to exist, lifts Connor’s soul.

Still, they have their duty to their kingdom, so at sunrise on their fifth day, Connor and Ryan say their final goodbyes to Andrew and Smytty.

“I know we have thanked you as much as we have said anything else, but we cannot thank you enough,” Ryan says. He is standing beside the saddle of his horse, stroking her side. Connor has seen the way Ryan treats the horse - Dora, he calls her, a Friesian mare whom Ryan’s father had traded for when Ryan was very young - with such tenderness that his heart breaks, thinking that Ryan has had to be away from her for so many years.

“We cannot think of people more deserving of our help,” Andrew replies.

Connor cannot help it, he gives both Andrew and Smytty long hugs. “I do wish I could see this place again someday,” he says wistfully, taking in one last look at the cabin, committing the scene to memory.

“I cannot advise either of you to venture west of your kingdom any more,” Andrew says. “Though you are welcome any time.” He smiles, and then it is Ryan’s turn to hug the both of them.

“Now remember,” Smytty says, pointing at Connor and Ryan’s chests. “Those amulets you are wearing will keep you invisible until you reach the outskirts of the forest, but they may not protect you from all magic. You cannot die by magic when wearing them, but that does not mean you are invincible. And Ryan,” he says with conviction, “there is always a better path. You just have to look for it.”

Connor has no idea what that means, but Ryan bites his lip and nods.

“I understand. I will send word when we are safe,” Ryan says. “Goodbye.” He mounts his horse and holds his hand out to Connor, who takes it.

Then Connor and Ryan are off, Ryan sitting in front to lead Isidora down the mountain.

\--

Their journey is much easier this time. Maybe it is the protection of the amulets, maybe it is the safety of riding on a horse, but Connor has no doubt that they will, in fact, return home, and be able to warn the king against ever sending people into the forest again.

On their first evening, they reach a covering of trees that Connor does not recognize, but Ryan deems as safe to sleep for the night. They lay out blankets and Connor builds a fire, which Ryan uses to cook game that he had just hunted with a bow and arrow Smytty had given him. It is not long before they settle in to sleep.

Connor wishes he could say that it is a bitterly cold evening, or that their fire went out. Something that would explain why suddenly he and Ryan are pressed so close to each other. Connor is wrapped around Ryan’s back, Ryan’s head pillowed on Connor’s upper arm. Connor tries to focus on the sound of the wind lightly whistling through the trees above, to the crackling of their fire, to the little bumps through their blankets that accentuate where the ground is rough and uneven. Anything to keep him from noticing that Ryan’s breath isn’t quite deep and measured, that Ryan’s back is perfectly flush with Connor’s front. The way Connor’s body is begging him to move, to hold Ryan even closer.

Then Ryan moves, ever so slightly, and Connor has to stifle a gasp. The friction is magnified by the thin fabric separating them and Connor’s hyper-awareness does nothing to halt the butterflies in his stomach.

Ryan must notice. He doesn’t freeze, though, not like Connor does. He waits a moment, then two, then turns towards Connor. Their noses are almost touching, and Connor’s hand is still wrapped around Ryan’s waist. He wants to do so many things in this exact moment, but he’s stunned still. Ryan’s breath is warm and his eyes are wide - wide and a beautiful brown - and they’re seemingly searching Connor’s soul for an answer Connor doesn’t know if he wants to give.

“Tell me not to,” Ryan says, breaking the thick silence. “Tell me to leave you be.”

Connor wishes he could. He tries to deny it, to push down the emotions that he had hidden away so well, for so long, and tell Ryan what he is asking for.

“I cannot,” Connor whispers. “I want you.”

Ryan lets out a breath that almost sounds like “oh,” and then his lips are pressed against Connor’s.

For all the times Connor has considered his first kiss, it pales in comparison to this. Ryan cradles Connor’s face with one hand as their lips slide against each other, his other hand underneath Connor’s tunic, pressed against the warmth of Connor’s hip.

Ryan pulls away and Connor tries to follow, then backs off in embarrassment. He wants this too much; he cannot even hold himself back from a simple kiss.

Ryan’s eyes are bright, his lips pink and glistening. He is so beautiful as he studies Connor, and Connor’s heart sings when Ryan leans back in.

They kiss for what seems like hours but it is not enough, it will never be enough, with Connor clutching at the front of Ryan’s shirt, keeping him close. He only wishes to have Ryan here from now on, and the way they fall asleep pressed together makes him believe that his wildest dream may be a possibility.  

\--

It is the next night, with Connor wrapped in Ryan’s arms, that Connor has a dream that wakes him up.

He’s swimming against the rush of the river as hard as he can, but is pushed along quickly. He tries to grab for large rocks but his hands slip on them, tries to reach for low-hanging tree branches but they snap in his fingers.

He looks behind him and his heart drops to his stomach. He is quickly approaching the edge of a waterfall, with no way to slow himself down. He tries to call out for help but a large wave crashes into his face, making him swallow water and cough uncontrollably.

 _You cannot escape this_ , that same shrill, cold voice says.

Connor is finally able to scream when he falls off the edge _._

He wakes and tenses, reminding himself that it is just a dream. Ryan’s arms tighten around him though Ryan is fast asleep, and Connor is able to settle back down.

\--

Connor is not as alert the next day, his tumultuous sleep leaving him with a haze of exhaustion. Still, he finds himself grounded with his hands pressed firmly around Ryan’s sides. There is a comfort in Ryan’s warmth, and he can almost pretend that it is simply the two of them out for a ride, no responsibilities or worries, taking time for the two of them.

“Look,” Ryan whispers, almost awestruck. Connor follows where Ryan is pointing and is happily surprised to see a male elk grazing peacefully, enormous antlers nearly dragging in the tall grass.

Another elk, a female this time, appears from the trees and begins grazing as well. Though they do not slow their pace, Connor feels as though the world has slowed down to give them this beautiful moment.

When they are far from the elk, Connor asks in a normal-volume voice, “Is there a lot of wildlife where you are from?”

If he hadn’t been holding Ryan’s middle so tightly, he may not have noticed Ryan tense. Still, Ryan answers easily, “oh, plenty. White-tailed deer are almost considered a pest there.”

Connor laughs. “While our kingdom worries of rabbits. How interesting.”

Ryan doesn’t laugh, and Connor sees his hands tighten on the reins. It’s a few long moments later when Ryan finally speaks again.

“I miss my family more every day. It can come in crashing waves, the homesickness. I try not to let it interfere with the immense joy I have living the life I do now, but. I wish I could see them again.”

Connor squeezes Ryan a little, chances a kiss in his hair. “Fate will be kind to you. I have faith your wish will come true.”

Ryan surprises Connor by twisting around to give Connor a kiss on the lips. Connor can almost swear that he feels actual sparks fly between them, his stomach flipping.

They share a smile and ride on.  

\--

Although Connor has been safe and comfortable on the journey back, he tenses whenever he hears the roar of a river, afraid that it is the waterfall again. Ryan has assured that they are taking a long way around so as to avoid the treacherous waters altogether, but the anxiety nonetheless. They must be approaching the area soon.

They stop to fill their canteens by a clear blue stream when Ryan cries out, and Connor’s worst fear comes to life. The water swirls around Ryan’s wrist and spreads along his body, covering him in seconds, pinning him to the grass.

“Ryan!” Connor shouts and runs to him, ignoring the alarmed neighs coming from Isidora. Ryan’s face is screwed up tight in agony.

Connor doesn’t want to touch him, doesn’t know how to help, and that is when the water reaches out from Ryan and grabs Connor too. Connor screams but knows it is too late, as he is surrounded and pinned to the ground as well.

 _You thought you could escape,_ the shrill voice says. _But you cannot escape, you will not tell the secrets you have discovered._

“I won’t!” Connor shouts. “I promise I will never speak of this quest!”

 _I will take your future,_ the voice says. _If you are to be free, if you are to prove yourself worthy of trust, you must sacrifice your future._

Connor is not sure what to say, what to think.

“Do not hurt him!” Connor pleads. “I will give you anything, just do not harm Ryan, and let us return home!”

 _What do you offer?_ The voice asks.

The answer comes too easily. “My leg,” Connor says weakly. “Take my use of my leg; I will not be a knight, I will not be in the Kingsguard, I will be nothing.”

There is no reply. The water binding him recedes, though, and the instant he is free Connor turns to Ryan. He is no longer pinned either but his eyes are closed as if he is asleep.

“Ryan?” Connor asks carefully.

Ryan’s eyes fly open, the irises all black. “Connor,” he chokes out.

Then a white-hot pain fills Connor’s leg, and he falls, unconscious, to the ground.

\--

Ryan is eating berries when Connor awakens. They are in a clearing with flowers almost completely surrounding them, Isidora trotting around happily.

Connor looks to his leg, and is filled with dread when he cannot move it. He lifts his pantleg and sees stitch-like gashes around the ankle, up the calf to the knee, and he reckons they continue all the way to his hip. There is no glowing magic, no way to save it now.

“Your leg,” Ryan says. “You bargained your leg.”

Connor nods. “At least we are safe.”

Ryan’s face does something funny, then he reaches for something in the tall grass. He brandishes two tall but skinny pieces of wood, with a platform on one of them.

“Smytty fashioned these crutches and stowed them with a shrinking spell,” Ryan says. He hands them to Connor. “They appeared in your bag when I went looking for your blanket.”

“They will do just fine,” Connor says. Ryan helps him up and Connor tests them out. They are awkward and uncomfortable, but at least Connor can move. Ryan bends Connor’s left knee for him to rest on the platform, which is sturdy as he stands. Then, Connor asks the question he wishes he did not have to. “Did you have to bargain anything?”

Isidora runs over and halts at Ryan’s side, as if she knows he needs comforting. Ryan’s eyes are watery as he replies, “My magic. I gave it my magic.”

Connor nearly chokes on air with shock. “Ryan-” He starts, but Ryan cuts him off.

“It was the only way,” Ryan says. “It asked for something else, but I could not give it. It accepted my magic instead.”

“I am so sorry,” Connor says. He is sorry for everything.

Ryan smiles, though it is watery. “Do not be. Now let us go, we must return to the kingdom.”

\--

Members of the kingsguard are waiting on the outermost borders of the castle when Ryan and Connor arrive back. They are in their defensive stance initially, but back down once they recognize Ryan and Connor on the unfamiliar horse.

“We thought you may have perished,” Sir Patrice says, escorting them back to the stables.

“We nearly did,” Connor says. “I have lost all use of my leg. Ryan is the only reason I am alive.”

They reach the stables, but Sir Patrice stays silent. He looks stunned, though he still offers his hand to Connor to help him off the horse.

“We are glad you have returned,” Sir Patrice says. “The king wishes to speak to you immediately, but if you require the hospital wing first-”

“There is no need,” Ryan interjects. He is on foot now, Connor’s crutches in his hands. “Thank you for the kind offer, but there is nothing more we can do for him. We will be happy to see the king now.”

The king, as it happens, is even more relieved to see them.

“You have been gone too long,” he says, offering them each a chair. “Please, tell me everything that has happened to you since your departure.”

Connor and Ryan share a look, and Connor nods.

“The forest is far too dangerous for any sort of civilization,” Ryan explains. “Sir Connor and I fought for our lives nearly every moment we were away, and Connor has lost any function in his left leg.”

Connor bites his lip; he is happy he is not the one who had to say that out loud. The sting of not being a knight anymore still cuts deep.

"Then it is I who should be apologizing for your ordeals," the king says remorsefully. "I am the one who pushed for this conquest, and now we have lost the service of one of our noblest knights. If there is any compensation the kingdom can offer, we will provide it.”

“That is very kind of you, Your Highness,” Connor replies. “For now, I believe Sir Ryan and I would simply like to relax. For a day or two.”

The king smiles. “Of course. I will leave you with the promise to never jeopardize your honour and sacrifice by attempting to expand west again.”

It is all the compensation Connor needs; Ryan too. They leave the king's meeting chambers and do not talk until they are in a deserted hallway, far away.

“I think I will travel home, be with my family for a few days,” Connor says. “After seeing Dylan, of course.”

Ryan smiles, steps in closely. He looks around, behind his shoulder, then gives Connor a deep kiss. Connor returns it, and they pull away smiling.

“As long as you come back to me,” Ryan says. His cheeks are pink; Connor kisses him high on his cheekbones.

“I promise.”

\--

“So you’re telling me," Dylan says, throwing another axe at a target. He hits the bullseye, of course. "That you will not say a single word about your quest, to me or anyone else besides the king."

“That is correct,” Connor says patiently. It wrecks him inside to do so, but it is the only way he can keep everyone in the kingdom safe, including himself.

“Even though you completely lost the function of your leg, and now have to work in the forgeries? Aren’t you looking for a little revenge for whatever happened to you?” Dylan retrieves the axe from the target and immediately throws it again, this time missing completely.

“I promise, Dylan, I am happy. But you will never learn what happened on the quest, not from Ryan nor myself.”

Dylan huffs, throws another axe at the target. This one hits, at least. “I know at least one thing that happened on that damn quest,” he grumbles.

Connor smiles and drops his head. He had told Dylan about what had happened with Ryan, and Dylan had almost immediately gone to threaten Ryan about now fearing for his life if he were to ever hurt Connor. It was quite entertaining, especially since Ryan seems to have taken Dylan seriously.

“You will warm up to him,” Connor assures. “I am happy, Dylan.”

Dylan sighs and walks over to Connor, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I know you are, my friend. And I trust you. I just hope you know you can always talk to me about anything. I am not dumb; I know you already miss being a knight.”

Connor’s chest clenches, of course it does, because he will always miss that part of him. But.

“Some things are more important,” Connor says, and he means it.

\--

“Have you gone to see Taylor and Jordan?” Connor asks. He and Ryan are sitting on a new raft, one Connor’s mother had made for him with a special place for his leg to be stabilized. This one, in addition, has been built for two.

Ryan stops paddling and looks out to the river, squinting in the light of the sunset. “I have.”

Connor knows better than to push Ryan with more questions, so he waits patiently until Ryan speaks again.

“I think Taylor may have recognized me before I said my name. And Jordan...well, he is willing to have conversations with me now. This is progress from him kicking me out time and again, I will say.”

“That is wonderful, Ryan,” Connor says, a little choked up. The next question he asks a little more hesitantly. “How have you been adjusting without your magic?”

“I did not use it much here,” Ryan says, but he is looking down, now. “I miss it dearly, though.”

“I am sorry,” Connor says, and he means it.

Ryan smiles, leans in, and kisses Connor lightly on the mouth. It sends sparks down Connor’s body and he grins.

“Some things are more important,” Ryan says.

Connor cannot help but agree.

 --

_Epilogue: Ten Years Later_

The light of the sunrise wakes Connor up. He rubs at his eyes and blinks a few times, then looks to Ryan, who is sleeping soundly beside him. He kisses Ryan gently on the cheek and Ryan smiles in his sleep, burrowing a little more into the covers.

A dream Connor had the night before comes to mind as he stares at the ceiling. It was of him and Ryan back in the woods, standing just beside the crest of the waterfall. A familiar voice came to them through the air, though Connor didn’t shiver at it like he had once done.

_Your honour and loyalty will be rewarded._

That is the last thing Connor remembers, reminds himself it is likely just a hopeful dream. He looks to Ryan again, still asleep, and smiles. They may have both given up a lot, but Connor has found fulfillment in his life. They are happy.

Very quietly, he rotates his legs out of the bed and places his good foot on the floor, then reaches for his crutches. Standing up is a practiced move and he does so skillfully. What he does not expect, though, is for his left leg to tingle in a way is has not done in ten years.

With trepidation, Connor looks down to his foot. It is hanging there in its permanent cast, but he tries to wiggle his toes, and yelps in surprise when it _works._

He falls back to the bed and makes quick work of getting the cast off. His knee is twitching and a rush of adrenaline courses through him. The smile on his face is uncontrollable as he is able to flex and rotate his foot, all the angry scars from the magic having disappeared.

“Ryan, Ryan!” Connor says excitedly, turning and tapping Ryan’s arm until he awakens.

Ryan groans a bit and stretches, rubs at his eyes before looking over at Connor. Instead of his warm brown eyes staring at Connor, though, they are the bright gold that Connor had seen only in the forest.

“What?” Ryan exclaims. Connor’s heart is pounding as Ryan looks around the room, laughing with joy. “Connor, my magic has returned.”

Connor leans over to give Ryan a kiss. When he started crying, he does not know. “As has my leg.”

Ryan gasps and watches Connor demonstrate his restored abilities. He is weak, but he will grow stronger.

“Did you…” Ryan asks.

“Yes, I had the dream too,” Connor confirms.

They embrace for a long time, and Connor sends his silent gratitude to the magic of the forest. He cannot imagine a more perfect morning.

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic, Taylor and Jordan have career-ending injuries: Taylor has lost all his memories, and Jordan has been blinded. Connor, too, sustains a serious injury: loss of function of his foot. 
> 
> Mild blood/gore involved in a scene where Ryan is stabbed (non-fatal) in sword combat.
> 
> \--
> 
> Fun fact: I almost didn't include the epilogue. Because I'm angsty like that :D


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